Etteilla
by Aureux
Summary: At last he had to choose between Exorcist and Bookman. To pick one would be to discard the other, or at least that was the way it was meant to be. But the war is not quite ready to let him leave. Now, on his 50th alias without an inkling of the 49th, the war still calls. Will his friends manage to save him from it devouring him entirely? Or is the damage already done?


Prologue

* * *

 _Why?_ The redhead's mind continued to echo, replaying that single word over and over again in his mind. One equally red brow was scrunched, forming a wrinkle in the center of his head where surely its covered mate was mirroring its action. Below, his single exposed green eye was slightly squinted as it followed the looming spire up to where it threatened to pierce the heavens themselves. Dark granite-like stone twisted free from the soil like a grand and demented tree, sides smooth and flat, interrupted only by the occasional translucent window and the large carved door that yawned open Veztarithr* before him.

Tinvveztathra* stands tall and proud, the only visible piece of Hazltinv*. Below it sits the four departments as well as the living areas and other necessary facilities. Even further beneath the ground, Veztarithr twisted and curled through the earth, spider-webbing free from the main building in all directions. These 84 miles of archives, history kept and secured from the founding of the clan and ranging from locations all over the world, was the staple of the Clan. All this was below his feet, an almost dizzying thought, if he had been of a fainter heart and not desensitized to the Clan's ways.

But, for once, the familiar sight was bringing Lavi anything but a feeling of home. Staring up at the great tower, his heart thumped unevenly in his chest, a cold dread pooling free from his gut. After all, this wasn't a pleasure visit. Rather, it was of a far darker and dreadful nature. Something that he had foolishly felt shouldn't have been such a big deal. But it was, at least to his mentor, whose role in this matter was the key. A sort of misplaced betrayal that continued to pulse, warped and coiled in a sort of reluctant and twisted expectation. He knew exactly what this visit would bring, Bookman knew exactly what would come of this. And he had sent him here anyway.

With a final gulp of breath that tried to push down Lavi's rising stomach, he steeled himself to continue forward along the path. All the while, the memories of the past week continued to jump to the forefront. The day everything changed...

 _-1 Week Prior-_

Lavi's shadow stretched through the doorway as he leaned against the side of the jamb and observed his mentor. Bookman sat at the desk, his head bent forward over one of the various volumes scattered across the room, the flicker of the candle's flame sending light playing across his age-hardened features.

The redhead looked back down at the thick parchment enclosed in his fist and the delicate cursive Cuneiform runic symbols that covered the expanse of it. While the writing was neat and official, it was also excessively flowery. For, in all of its paragraphed greatness, it all of it added up to simply one thing, one thing that both enraged and worried the apprentice.

"Whatcha mean I'm off this Record?" Lavi asked, almost in a conversational fashion. Even so, despite his attempts keep his tone blank, he could not stop the soft hoarse rasp that curled around the edges of his words, the restrained emotion lightly breaking into his voice.

He had just returned from a mission to deliver a letter he had left with Komui asking for Lavi to come and see Bookman in their workroom once he had reported in. Inside, it also spoke of a warning not to get too comfortable as they would be leaving together in the morning. But, most alarming of all was the ending line. _"We must talk about your place on this record."_

Bookman shifted, lifting his head to settle his dark ringed eyes upon his apprentice. His expression was flat, giving away nothing in the wrinkled expanse of his features, or at least,not to any normal person. Lavi had known the man for most of his life and could see the slight almost-disappointment and pity in those flinty depths.

"I didn't say anything about removing you from the case, but you are right to think so." the elder replied monotonously.

"What'd I do to warrant this?"

Bookman exhaled through his nose with something akin to a sigh.

"Look at yourself and you'll see. You've gotten far too attached. I let it go, hoping you would figure things out for yourself. But you are slipping. Lavi, no, _Junior_ , you can't afford to stay this involved. I am putting my foot down. You are off this Record and I am sending you to Hazltinv to get yourself sorted out." Bookman returned to his book almost dismissively, but such gestures were fruitless.

Still at his spot in the doorway, Lavi stood frozen with his one visible eye widened in such a way that it was reminiscent of a deer in one's headlights. 'Sending you to Hazltinv to get yourself sorted out' was a nice way of telling Lavi he was going in for Mrysemna.

Mrysemna*, also known as the Purge, was both a blessing and the ultimate punishment for a Bookman. To have Mrysemna meant the Purging of a Record for a Bookman or Apprentice that had slipped far too deep into said Record. To Purge a Record was to have all memories of the Record, as well as any corresponding emotions and traits involved in such, removed. It was a last ditch effort of sorts to recover a Bookman from a Record while also keeping them intact. After all,not all reasons for slipping were like Lavi's. Some were caused by trauma, a close brush with death that refused to leave them, a particularly gruesome battle. Whatever the reason was though, the outcome was always the same.

It was a sort of second chance. The only catch was that it required something a Bookman feared and dread more than anything else and that was the violation of their records. In the end, the historians greatest asset was their memory. To lose such, even in a controlled method, was a risk of their livelihood.

To Lavi, to be ordered back for Mrysemna was the equivalent of a death sentence. If all went well, who he was, his persona, would be erased. In the end, no matter how human he had become, Lavi was simply a controlled off-shoot of the core, a core he hadn't been in a long time, one that was buried under layers and layers of persona's and experiences. A core that he would like to think he was the closest thing to.

And such sentiment seemed to come to life behind his single eye, fueled by a sudden deep desire to do whatever he could to stop this turn of events.

"I know I've been a little too close, but come on Jiji. I don't think it warrants Mrysemna..."

"I've made my decision and it is final. Tomorrow we will leave on a series of missions that will take us far enough away from the Order for you to make the journey. Once we reach the Black Sea we will part ways and you will have a week to report to Hazltinv. That is of course if you still have the intention of being my apprentice." The elder man trailed off as he closed the book and reached into the bag at his side to retreive a familiar plastic bag. Inside that bag were wads of dried tobacco that he was quick to dislodge.

As Bookman prepared his pipe, Lavi stood ramrod straight. His single eye glowed with a muted panic that was reflected in the tense spasming of his hands. All the while his mind was jumping between two tracks, two halves of himself that no matter what, were irrevocably him. But here he was, left to choose whichever path to take. To give up his place as a Bookman or to turn and leave Lavi behind. As if sensing his conflict, the old man paused in his actions to set his flinty kohl-ringed eyes on his apprentice.

"The decision is yours but keep in mind that while you may have been an Exorcist for a year or two, you have been striving to be a Bookman far longer." Bookman's words rang out clearly, the only advice that he could possibly give. And as quickly as he doled out those words, he was drawing his attention back to stuffing the pipe held between his boney fingers.

Lavi took the dismisal with an exhaled sigh, before pushing himself free of the door jamb. His emerald eye swept over the room with a sort of frustration as he turns to leave.

"Don't tell the other exorcists about this development." It was that firm order that followed him out of the room as the redhead swept free of the stifling location. In his haste he missed those final few whispered words.

"Choose wisely. I do not wish to lose another apprentice."

 _-Present Day-_

Consider it Lavi did. Even now, standing so close yet still so many footfalls away, he debated turning back. But throughout all those doubts, a soft voice continued to call to him, reminding him of that wish he had made all those years ago.

 _'I wish to learn what no one else can! The secret history behind it all!'_

Despite everything, his experiences in the Ark, his new understanding of himself, he couldn't help but wish for part of him to remain a Bookman. Yes, Lavi adored his friends, all the connections he had made. But maybe, just maybe, with the coming waves, they would need a Bookman more than a friend. After all, his existence was dangerous to them. Who knew if Road would try to use the confusion that still sat in the depths of his mind, the other persona's who continued to cling amidst his memory and psyche- against him.

 _I'm sorry Lenalee... Allen... Yuu... I'm not strong enough to stay by your side..._

The redhead gazed up at the dark stone, his mind settling on his chosen path. He would continue to be a Bookman. And maybe, if it was meant to be, he would one day someday see them again. He may not remember them, but that possibility was enough. The chance that he may be able to help them as something more if the time were to come settled his resolve. All the while at his side, Ōzuchi Kozuchi buzzed against his thigh in its hoslter. It was the final piece of his life as an Exorcist.

 _Once upon a time there was a young boy with hair the color of fire and blood. He was not like others his age, quite a strange and queer child was he._

He refused to let the Old Panda take it from him.

 _His clothes were rugged, his right eye covered by the fabric of a medical patch. He stood in the fields of wheat, watching the sun kissing the surface of the land and turning it into a fiery sea of gold. A beautiful sight of a world he couldn't help but fall in love with despite everything that had happened to him. It was the blame of people, of humans and their actions. Not of this wonderful world, so free and merciless._

What he did with it would be done as his final act as Lavi.

 _Here was his preferred place, even more-so after the incident. The village was colorless, every member of it carbon copies of one another. A fishing and farming village of dark haired and dull eyed people. Clothes were in earthy shades that made them all blend together and left the boy to stick out like a sore thumb even before it happened._

 _Now they would watch him with various degrees of mistrust and weary attention. He should have died, that he knew. And they seemed suspicious of the fact that he didn't mind or fear the stranger that had happened to come along and show an interest in the strange little boy._

His final break of the rules.

 _The man claimed to be nameless and to simply call him "Bookman". While some were unsure of the elder who refused to grant them a sure name, the boy couldn't help but be curious. The rumors that passed by, the stories explained by those old enough to remember the time that such a man had come before, intrigued him._

 _To him the man reminded him of the world, free and merciless, without a care of anyone or anything beyond the passage of time. Something in that appealed to the youth who was tired of being stagnant and unwanted. As a phantom he could be free, traveling and learning and seeing all that there was to see._

Lavi fingered the weapon and drew it with ease.

 _So when the man was alone the small boy approached, much to the hushed whispers of those who had seen him come in. They couldn't exactly forbid him from coming into any places but that didn't exactly mean that they liked it, their superstitions calling it a bad omen and a sign of bad luck to come. He ignored the new tales and worries about his presence, his attention for the old man alone who met his gaze without a bat of an eye._

 _"Is there something you want, child?"_

 _"I want to know more about you,"_

 _"And why should I tell you that?" The question was spoken without malice or accusations. It was simply a question, uttered in a dry tone with the lightest hints of interest in the possible answer._

 _The young boy squared his shoulders, his eye not once leaving its focus on the Bookman._

 _"I want to learn. Whatever it takes, I want to learn all there is out there. I wish to learn what no one else can! The secret history behind it all!"_

The small hammer fit in his palm with ease.

 _"Where did you hear about all that?" The Bookman's interest was piqued although he hid it well. The redhead child continued to stand before him but had grown quiet after his sudden outburst._

 _"I listen to what I can. There were rumors that you are a historian. Whispers that you were something important, so I looked it up." the boy replied steadily._

 _"Where did you manage to get the information you looked up? There isn't a library here."_

 _At those words his expression fell to a slightly more sheepish nature. Small hands dug inside the messenger bag hooked over his shoulder and drew from it an old leatherbound journal. On its cover was an insignia that caused the old man's eyebrows to raise._

Lavi walked to the water's edge, the depths of Pmeon Wyrxi* a clear and fast flowing blue.

 _"I found it,"_

 _"Where?"_

 _"That's for me to know,"_

 _With one final look at the small metal hammer, he pulled back his arm and pitched it into the river._

 _The two were both interested in one another, the redhaired child and the old man. Both spent some time speaking and conversing as the Bookman stayed in the village to record the movements of the Civil War which had broken out a few towns over. It was no surprise when at last it reached the village._

 _It was leveled with ease by the militia who were quick to move on. Those that survived were working to rebuild and Bookman was passing on. But a note was left for one little boy who stayed behind, a chance to come with the elder man and become something more than he was. A chance to become the apprentice of the elder he had come to respect._

Here neither Noah nor the Order would be able to get ahold of the innocence he once held. It was the least Lavi could do, stopping it from being destroyed or forced upon another.

 _The two met in the fields, in the place the young boy had taken to coming and staying. And without pretense or even a word exchanged between them, the two left together._

With that out of the way, the Bookman Apprentice turned once more to the building and, without another thought, passed across the threshold. For better or worse, Lavi was well aware that what happened next would change the course of his life- forever.

 _To explore a new path._

Whatever came next...

 ** _He was ready._**

* * *

Bookman Language Translations

*Tinvveztathra [Tee-niv-vez-tah-thrah] = Grand Library (Literally translates Big Book Home)

*Hazltinv [Hahz-l-tee-niv] = Homeland

*Veztarithr [Vez-tah-ree-thir] = Chamber of Books (Nicknamed 'the Stacks')

*Mrysemna [Mrr-rees-em-nah] = the Purge (Literally translates Mind Scream)

*Pmeon Wyrxi [Fmee-on-weer-kss-zee] = Snake's River (The river's name)

* * *

Author's Note!:

I already have the next chapter drafted out in a notebook. I just need to do a bit more work on it. Before I get beyond chapter 2, I must know, are there any specific pairings you wish to see? There will be no lemon, but maleXmale pairings are fine. Let me know in the comments any, if any at all, you wish to see!

Also a big thanks to _**keiman and kei**_ my fantastic beta! (Yes Auri got a Beta. Shocker, right?)

Until next time, with luffles -Aureux


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